


Short stories

by Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson



Category: None - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson/pseuds/Loki_Silvertongue_laufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a collection of short stories that I wrote, they will be varied genres and I will continue to add to them when ever the writing mood takes me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this one is a horror of some kind.....? Maybe? I don't know, enjoy

The woods pressed in close all around her. There was an expectant silence, the kind you get in a theatre as the curtain starts to go up, but this silence had a much more sinister edge to it. It was as if the world was holding its breath waiting for a foretold event to take place. The damp smell of rotting leaves assaulted her nostrils and her eyeballs strained to see through the darkening forest. It wouldn't be long before she found a tree to rest in for the night, but before then she was determined to get as far through this unfriendly wood as possible. About an hour later, she had climbed steadily and reached a crest of the ridge she was following. It was almost completely dark by now and so with a cautious glance round behind her, she steadily climbed the towering tree that she had chosen unable to shake the feeling of being watched off. Unlike most people she greatly enjoyed her own company and silence was her friend more than any other human ever was. But the preferred silence was harmonious and peaceful, it was a silence with background noise of birds or running water. Complete silence like this put even the bravest on edge. It brings back too many ingrained fears of silence. No birds singing was very likely to mean the presence of a predator in the area. Her very nature demanded her to get out of there even as her body locked down, paralysed through fear and her imagination brought forth noises in the woods and eyes in the trees. At first light she leapt from her branch and rolling on impact stood up and began to run. The forest stretched for miles and miles and all around her the oppressive silence was pushing on her ear drums, demanding to be felt, to be listened to. Her breathing sped up to just below panic level and she cursed herself for trying to be smart. She hadn't heeded the warnings about the woods, dismissing them as wives tales so instead of taking the longer route round the woods she had gone straight through. The silence continued to press in around her, her heartbeat sounded like the war drums pounding and pounding. Increasing in crescendo until with a final bang the wave broke and she swayed dizzy and disorientated. Her purpose was beginning to slip away and with a smile on her face she began to wander. Many years later the only remembrance of her was in the stories she so callously ignored. The stories of the victims of the silence.


	2. Not long enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so let's not analyse this one too deeply, it was about 3 in the morning when I wrote this :p

How far can you push someone until they snap?   
How far can you bend a branch until it breaks?   
If you don't know then I suggest you don't try, the recoil can be quite..... Unexpected. 

Routines can help delay the breaking but it can't hide the cracks. Everyday you get up and hide your face behind makeup in the desperate attempt to fit in. Yet you are like a chocolate egg, hollow inside but wearing a pretty wrapper. How long can you put on the facade of caring?...  
How long will your hollow mask last in the storm?  
Each day you are slipping although your tired fingers clutch hard at the unforgiving edge. Balanced on a knife point?  
No I think not...   
Clinging is a much better word, balancing is too hopeful. Balancing carries connotations of elegance, but the only elegance on you is the dainty web of scars marking your skin in an effort to cling to that much referred to knife edge.   
It's like skydiving, the initial free-fall of the precipice and then the parachute deploys, but a parachute doesn't stop you falling, it just prolongs it. 

And how long can you push yourself until you snap?   
How long can you prolong a fall before you hit the bottom?   
How long can you bend a branch before it breaks?

 

The answer, not long enough.  
And then it all comes tumbling down.


End file.
